


I Want To Be Good For You

by HellsLittleLiar



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Begging, Bondage, Collars, Dehumanising language, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Excessive use of the words Good Boy, Fluff, Gags, Gentle Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Praise Kink, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Takes a Bath, Humiliation, I'm sorry I don't usually tag this much I don't know if this is too many tags, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Big Dick, M/M, NOT between Geralt and Jaskier I promise, Orgasm Denial, Past Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pining, Praise Kink, Public Humiliation, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Smut, Spanking, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, a lot of spanking though, fake slavery, only a little, thats a tag lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsLittleLiar/pseuds/HellsLittleLiar
Summary: Jaskier is on a mission to find some important information from Lord Harnhem's estate and Geralt insists on going with him to protect him. The only problem is that Lord Harnhem doesn't allow witchers on his property without a human master to control them.Geralt immediately insists on pretending that Jaskier is his master, to make sure the bard is protected. If he likes wearing Jaskier's collar a little too much, well, that's his own business. There's no need to bother Jaskier about it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 231
Kudos: 483





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt shivered as Jaskier’s fingers brushed his neck. Those dexterous fingers tucked themselves under the collar they had placed there and tugged lightly. This was necessary, he reminded himself. This was absolutely necessary. He bit back a moan as the tugging temporarily cut off his air supply for just a couple of seconds, leaving him gasping. He quieted his breaths so human hearing wouldn’t pick up on it. In this position, Jaskier would be able to drag Geralt around after him, moving him wherever he pleased. Jaskier tugged gently at the collar again.

“Is that loose enough, dear heart, can you breathe?”

“Hm.”

His lack of breath was not from the collar, which fit him perfectly around the neck, but rather from the commanding presence in front of him. The leather collar had a silver loop attached to the front, which Jaskier clipped a matching leather lead to. Geralt almost fell to his knees in reverence right then and there. He stopped himself, just in time. This was just an act, he reminded himself, it’s only pretend. _He doesn’t actually want you like this._

“Darling, I know your personal preference is to be taciturn, but I need you to use your words while we’re doing this. For me?”

“Y-yes.” Geralt whispered.

“Yes you agree?”

“Yes.”

“And you can breathe?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good! Thank you, sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.”

Jaskier ran his hands up and down Geralt’s arms reassuringly, completely oblivious to the effect it had on the witcher. The whole situation was his own fault, really. He had been the one to insist on accompanying his vulnerable bard to Lord Harnhem’s estate. Then again, perhaps it was Lord Harnhem’s fault. The lord had invited Jaskier to stay at his estate for the season and, despite not particularly wanting to go, Jaskier had agreed to stay for a single week instead. He wouldn’t have bothered, but they had reason to believe that Lord Harnhem had information they needed.

That was when Geralt jumped in and insisted that Jaskier, sweet, unarmed Jaskier, not go alone into an enemy’s lair. Lord Harnhem wrote back to Jaskier’s inquiring letter to insist that no wild witcher without a human master would set foot on his lands. That was almost enough to convince Jaskier not to go at all, but they did need that information. It was easy to convince Jaskier to go, but it was harder to convince Jaskier to let Geralt come with him, when it meant Geralt was pretending to be his slave.

“Do you remember your word?”

Eventually the bard gave in, and used that opportunity to force Geralt to have several very intense conversations about what he could handle and how long for. He had even, after a very long argument about not needing one, agreed to choose a safe word. He had never heard of it before, but Jaskier insisted that it was common practice. Despite insisting that he didn’t need one, Jaskier told him that if he didn’t choose a word, he would just leave Geralt behind. He couldn’t risk that, so they agreed on “Posada”, which was easy to remember since it was the place they met.

“Hm. Yes.”

“Good, thank you for using your words, dear heart, now tell me your safe word.”

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier…”

“Not quite! Try again.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“ _Geralt_.”

“Fine, fine, it’s Posada.”

“There we go, darling, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jaskier praised and Geralt felt heat stir in his belly. He glanced away, certain that a pink blush was beginning to stain his cheeks. A blushing witcher was surely a ridiculous sight.

Jaskier giggled nervously. “You know, this is a little different than any other time I’ve put a collar on someone.”

He felt himself fill with jealousy. Jaskier had collared other people? He hadn’t realised that Jaskier liked that sort of thing, perhaps liked putting his partners in collars as much as Geralt liked to be collared. It was a stupid thing to be jealous over, Geralt knew, since he didn’t care when Jaskier took a different partner in every town. Jaskier couldn’t help falling in love with everyone he met; it was just part of who he was. Besides, Geralt had no claim over him either way, as the only person Jaskier had met who the bard didn’t immediately fall into bed with. He didn’t blame Jaskier. Not even the most loving person in the world, which Jaskier was, could love a witcher, especially not the Butcher of Blaviken.

Still, Geralt wished for more. He wished that Jaskier would love him or, failing that, wished that Jaskier would fuck him. The bard flirted with him a lot, but he flirted with everyone. He didn’t truly want Geralt like that, which was obvious since he had never made a move on him. Despite his desire for Jaskier to take him, Geralt wasn’t envious of the attentions he lavished other people with. Usually.

Now he knew that the collar around his neck wasn’t the first Jaskier had put on someone and he wanted nothing more than to be the only one who belonged to the bard. He scowled at his own thoughts. He didn’t belong to Jaskier, no matter how much he wanted to. The collar around his throat, reminding him of his place, was merely a disguise, put there to benefit only their mission and not themselves. The lead held firmly in Jaskier’s hand wasn’t there because the bard wanted Geralt, but because Geralt had practically forced him into accepting it so he could accompany him on the mission.

“It does suit you, dear heart.” Jaskier nodded towards the collar. “Have you ever thought of adding a collar to your usual outfit rotation?”

Geralt growled in response to cover up a whine that raised up his throat at the thought of wearing Jaskier’s collar on the Path. Fuck, if he did that, everyone would know he belonged to someone, belonged to Jaskier. Even Jaskier would know that Geralt belonged to him.

Jaskier laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s asking a little much of you, isn’t it, darling? Even if you do look terribly sexy like this. You’re already doing so much for this week, aren’t you? Thank you, dear heart. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Geralt answered with much more confidence than he felt.

* * *

“Incredible. It’s so tame.” Lord Harnhem marvelled as he walked in a wide circle around Geralt, who stood stock still in the middle of the room.

“Of course, my lord, you didn’t think I’d travel with a witcher who wasn’t… domesticated, did you?” Jaskier trailed a finger slowly down Geralt’s face, goosebumps raised in it’s wake. Geralt stayed perfectly still and let Jaskier touch him as he pleased.

Lord Harnhem reached out to poke at him. Geralt snarled and snapped his teeth and the lord paled and jerked his hand away urgently.

“Best not to touch him.” Jaskier said casually, as though Lord Harnhem hadn’t just been in danger of losing his fingers only moments before. “He only listens to me.”

“Well, I never!” Lord Harnhem huffed. “Just make sure it doesn’t attack anyone important, or it’s gone.”

“Don’t fear, my lord, he doesn’t tend to attack without my say so.”

“ _Tend to?”_

“Ah, well, accidents do happen.”

“I hope you have an appropriate punishment for it if an _accident_ happens.”

“Of course.” Jaskier waved off his worries.

* * *

“Phew!” Jaskier flopped onto the large bed face first. “That man is exhausting. He talks more than I do! And he said nothing of importance the entire time,”

Geralt joined him on the bed; it was big enough and he wasn’t about to curl up on the rug like an actual pet, as he was sure Lord Harnhem expected him to do. He stroked his friend’s hair gently and Jaskier sighed happily at the touch before gasping sharply and sitting up. Geralt withdrew his hand, feeling dread build up inside his stomach. He had displeased Jaskier somehow, done something wrong.

He allowed himself to be manhandled into a different position, until Jaskier lay against the headboard and Geralt lay against Jaskier’s chest, with one arm wrapped securely around him and the other running through his hair. He sighed happily.

“You did so wonderfully today, darling. You’re so lovely for me. The first day’s down, and we’ve only got six days to go and then you’ll be done. Do you think you can do that for me, dear heart, just six more days?”

“Y-yes.”

“Thank you, dear heart, you’re so good for me. Here, I’ll take the collar off now-”

Geralt moved away from the reaching hand, which Jaskier dropped and wrapped his arm around Geralt’s waist again instead. “Is that a no?”

He shook his head and buried his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. Surely now the bard would realise how much Geralt liked having the collar on, how much Geralt wanted Jaskier to keep him collared permanently. He would realise that Geralt took personal advantage of the situation, as when he volunteered he knew it meant Jaskier would have to take care of him for an entire week. It was the only way Jaskier would ever even consider touching him like that, so Geralt had to take the risk and ask.

“Ah, I suppose you’re right, darling, better to keep it on just in case anyone bursts in here without warning. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you a proper break from it.”

“S’fine.” Geralt mumbled, not removing his face from Jaskier’s shoulder.

It was fine. It was more than fine; it was wonderful. All Geralt had done was follow Jaskier around as Lord Harnhem showed the bard his estate. Jaskier kept hold of the lead attached to Geralt’s collar, so the witcher had no choice but to follow on behind him. Every time Lord Harnhem looked away, Jaskier shot him apologetic looks and gave fleeting, reassuring touches to his back and his face. The one time Lord Harnhem caught Jaskier touching Geralt’s back, Jaskier covered up the reason by reaching down and squeezing Geralt’s arse. Geralt had jumped and squeaked in surprise before he managed to compose himself. He gulped and hoped Jaskier wouldn’t notice Geralt getting harder in his trousers as he thought about belonging to the bard.

Jaskier was still talking, so Geralt did his best to focus on his voice. “We just have to get through a very small banquet tomorrow and then the rest of the week, we only have Harnhem to convince that you’re a good boy-”

Geralt whimpered.

“Good boy?” Jaskier repeated and received the same noise as an answer. “Geralt, dear heart, was that a good noise or a bad noise?”

Geralt closed his eyes and sealed his mouth closed. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to confirm Jaskier’s possible suspicions that Geralt liked it more than he should.

“It’s alright, darling, you don’t have to tell me. Is it okay if I still use the phrase good boy?”

“… yes.”

“There you go, sweetheart, thank you so much for telling me. You’re doing so well for me.”

Geralt blushed and kept his face hidden in Jaskier’s shoulder. He didn’t see any reason to move, when his love was holding him like this, like he loved him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first smutty fic I've ever written so don't be too harsh, haha :D 
> 
> I meant to write a 10k oneshot that was mostly just erotica, but this turned out to be a 30k multi-chapter fic where Geralt spends some of his time pining and a lot of his time fantasising. The sex scenes don't even happen until the later chapters... oops!
> 
> Remember to leave a comment if you liked it! Thanks for reading! <3


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt knelt on the floor next to Jaskier’s feet with his eyes cast downwards and his mind calm and hazy. He hadn’t felt this peaceful in a terribly long time, not since he and Eskel made love to each other in Kaer Morhen when they were younger. He had come close to the feeling with Yennefer, but she tended to prevent him from getting into such a hazy state of being, citing the need to read his mind to check if he was still fully willing to play their games. Jaskier’s hand rested on Geralt’s head, fingers dragged through his hair gently every so often, as he chatted to Lord Harnhem.

Occasionally, Jaskier hand-fed Geralt a little piece of food from his plate. Geralt took the morsels delicately with his teeth and ate them obediently. He was pleased that Jaskier was performing such an intimate act, of feeding Geralt from his own plate. He wondered if Jaskier would allow him to return the favour one day. The bard liked luxury, decadence. He could lounge on a silk chaise, wearing a silk robe and a golden wreath upon his head. Geralt could kneel next to him, entirely naked but for his collar and lead, held in Jaskier’s commanding hand. He could hold a large bunch of grapes or a bowl of strawberries and whenever Jaskier wished to be fed, he could pull hard on the lead to get Geralt’s attention and Geralt would hand-feed his offerings to his own personal god.

He nibbled mischievously on Jaskier’s fingers as he fed him another morsel and Jaskier giggled quietly at the sensation. Geralt hummed to himself, pleased to have made Jaskier happy. He wanted to be good for Jaskier, wanted Jaskier to call him a good boy again.

Another piece of food was pushed towards him and Geralt opened his mouth automatically. His eyes snapped open as he realised that the hand attempting to feed him smelt wrong, of heavy tobacco and sour lemons and not at all like the roses and sweet clementines his master was supposed to smell like. He bit down hard and was rewarded with a loud, agonised shout of pain.

He felt Jaskier’s hand on his shoulder and he released the hand. Fuck. He glanced up and found Lord Harnhem clutching his hand to his chest. _Fuck._ He had compromised their entire mission because he couldn’t control himself properly and now he was going to get kicked out and Jaskier would be left behind, alone in enemy territory. He would be alone and defenceless and, the worst thing of all, he would be disappointed in Geralt.

Jaskier and Lord Harnhem were discussing his punishment, Geralt realised as he forced himself to stop spiralling and focus on his surroundings. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. A punishment meant that he wasn’t being banished, wasn’t getting kicked out and forced to leave Jaskier behind. Still, it wasn’t something he had considered. Jaskier had made them have conversations about almost every possibility but not punishments. Had Geralt disappointed him then? That he needed a punishment on only the second day, when Jaskier had assumed he wouldn’t need to be punished at all? Geralt wished he could have been a good boy for Jaskier, like the bard expected him to be. Yet, a nervous thrill shot through him at the thought of being punished.

What would his punishment be?

He didn’t have much time to consider, as Jaskier tucked a finger underneath his chin and made him look up at him. “What do you think, witcher? You can either take your spanking over my knee right here, in front of all these people-” Jaskier gestured to the several nobles gathered for the small banquet. “-or I can take you back to my chambers and give you a private punishment, but you’ll find it will hurt much more.”

Jaskier was giving him an out, Geralt realised, so they could pretend he was being punished in private. He looked at the faces of the lords and ladies watching with interest; he would be completely humiliated if he were to be spanked in front of all of them. He didn’t recognise a single one of their faces and expected that they would never return to this area once their mission was over. Heat shot through his stomach at the possibility of being humiliated in public, put over a man’s knee and spanked as if he were a misbehaving child.

He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out “Here, please, master.”

Lord Harnhem chuckled. “Knows what’ll happen if you punish it in private, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.” Jaskier’s eyes were dark, but not angry or upset. He looked at Geralt’s face as though he were searching for something, although Geralt wasn’t sure what. Then he sat back in his chair and crooked a finger at Geralt. “Get over here and bend over my knee, now.”

Geralt scrambled to obey.

* * *

He lay himself over his knee and Jaskier pulled his trousers down to the top of his thighs, exposing him to all the nobles watching his punishment and leaving him shivering with humiliation. He felt overly exposed and sensitive, without being touched at all. He trembled with anticipation and Jaskier placed a firm hand on his thigh to keep him in place.

“How many strikes does it take?” Lord Harnhem inquired.

“That depends what he’s done, my lord.”

“Well, it did attack me in the most brutish manner and I have been kind enough not to throw it out on the streets as I said I would so I would request that I decide how many.”

“What would you recommend, my lord?” Jaskier wouldn’t do it, Geralt knew, if he didn’t think the witcher could handle it. Jaskier was always so good to him, always taking care of him. He would know how to punish him too.

“One hundred strikes would be fair, I believe, since he is a witcher after all.”

“What do you think, witcher? Can you handle that?” Jaskier was giving him another chance to change his mind, to pretend to be punished instead.

“Yes, master.”

“If you’re sure.”

Geralt could feel Lord Harnhem’s smug smirk baring into him, although he couldn’t see it and he wanted to scream at the man that he chose this, he asked Jaskier to punish him and the bard _agreed._ He wanted to smugly announce that Jaskier was _his_ master and his master could punish him however and whenever he wanted.

“You’re going to count each strike.” Jaskier ordered. “And if you lose count, I’m going to start again.”

“Yes, Master.” Geralt gasped as Jaskier smacked him for the first time before he remembered to squeak out “ONE!”

_Smack._ “Two!”

_Smack._ “Three!”

_Smack._ “Four!”

_Smack._ “Five!”

By the time he got to “Ten!” he was squirming and being pinned in place by Jaskier’s firm hand on his thigh.

_Smack._ “T-twenty!”

_Smack._ “Twenty o-one!”

_Smack._ “Twenty two!

_Smack._ “Twenty three!”

_Smack._ “Twenty four!”

_Smack._ “Twe-twenty fuh-ive!” He huffed out, panting at the effort of counting the strikes and balancing on Jaskier’s knee and flinching away from the pain and into it at the same time. His cock was hard and pressing into Jaskier’s lap, while he helplessly tried to twist away to hide it. Jaskier kept him pinned in place, unable to do anything but take his punishment.

_Smack._ “F-fourty ei-ight!”

_Smack._ “Fourt-y n-nine!”

_Smack._ “Fifty!” He wailed, his face a burning red from both the effort of staying still to take his punishment and the humiliation of having others watch him be punished. He didn’t look up, but he could feel all their eyes on him, staring at him as he took his spanking. He gasped and whimpered and panted as Jaskier continued to spank his arse raw.

_Smack._ “Sixty e-e-eight!”

_Smack._ “Si-ix-ty ni-ine!”

_Smack._ “Se-seventy!” He sobbed and his eyes filled with tears. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so badly. He wanted to beg Jaskier to stop, to tell him he would be a good boy from now on, that he would never need to punish him again because Geralt would obey his master’s every order. At the same time, he never wanted it to end. It felt so, so good, amazing, incredible. He wanted to beg Jaskier to strike him a hundred more times, to spank him harder and faster, to leave him bent over a table or a desk or a chair and let anyone who came across him give him another because he deserved to be punished. He had been so bad.

_Smack._ “N-ninety sev-seven!” Tears streamed down his face silently, and his face burned in humiliation as much as his arse burned in pain. His cock was painfully hard, and he wasn’t allowed to get off, according to the hand pinning him in place. That must be part of the punishment.

_Smack._ “Ninety e-eight!”

_Smack._ “Ninety n-n-nine!”

_Smack._ “H-hundred.” He whimpered as Jaskier brought his hand down hard for the final time.

Jaskier rubbed his backside gently, in an attempt to soothe the ache but only set the burning sensation aflame. He whimpered again as Jaskier pulled his trousers back up for him and gently pushed him down to his knees. He tucked his hands over his lap as though he were sitting politely, although he was certain he couldn’t be more humiliated in front of these nobles than he already had been, and entirely voluntarily. Only he and Jaskier would know how much Geralt liked his punishment, if he could help it.

The nobles turn back to their conversations, quickly forgetting the entertainment of watching a slave, even a witcher slave, getting spanked publicly. He wished they would stare some more, so they could take in the sight properly, so they would know exactly who Geralt belonged to. He wanted to shout at them to look at him, to witness that his master had punished him in front of all of them. He wanted them to know, with absolute certainty, that he was Jaskier’s.

He kept his lap covered with both of his hands, and tried to think of the least sexy things he possibly could; Vesemir naked, his last contract for drowners in a disgusting swamp, the witcher trials. It didn’t work.

All he could think of was Jaskier’s hands on him, punishing him, keeping him or moving him where he pleased. Running his hands over Geralt’s shoulders, back, arse, thighs. Geralt leaned back so his stinging arse pressed to the backs of his heels. He wanted to make sure he could feel the ache of Jaskier’s touch for as long as he possibly could. He already regretted his inhuman healing time. Was it too much to ask for to have Jaskier mark him for longer than a moment?

* * *

As soon as they walked through the door to their chambers, Jaskier locked it and drew Geralt quickly into a protective embrace. Geralt ducked down to tuck himself under his master’s chin. Jaskier made soft, assuring sounds as he stroked Geralt’s hair. Geralt trembled at the gentle touch and let himself be lead to the bed and lay down on his side just as gently.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m so sorry. We never discussed doing something like that, dear heart, I’m so sorry.” Jaskier babbled.

“S’okay.” Geralt murmured happily. There had been something cathartic about it, about the way it made him cry, about how he could think of nothing but the pain and pleasure that Jaskier was dishing out to him. It reminded him of when Yen used her magic to increase his sensitivity to touch, leaving his nerves alight and his limbs trembling, only Jaskier didn’t have to use magic to achieve the same result. Jaskier was also a lot more apologetic than Yen ever was after dealing out punishments.

“I’ve got some lotion that might help. Would you care for me to put it on for you?”

Geralt didn’t want the stinging to stop, but it had mostly simmered down already, and he wanted Jaskier to keep his hands on him for as long as possible. He nodded his assent.

“Was that a yes, darling?”

“Hmmm. Yyyess.” Geralt rolled over onto his stomach to give Jaskier access to his back. He closed his eyes and hummed happily as Jaskier carefully undressed him until he was completely naked.

“Geralt? Dear heart, is this okay?”

“Yes, master.” Geralt sighed contentedly. Jaskier placed a hesitant hand on the small of his back.

“Would you like a massage too, my darling? I know you like those. It might help you relax.”

“Yes, master.”

“Okay, dear heart, you lay there and relax while I fetch the lotion and chamomile oil, alright?”

Geralt made an agreeable noise.

He whined and pushed up into Jaskier’s hands as he massaged the lotion and oil into his backside. As Jaskier rubbed his hands lower and lower, slowly approaching his thighs, Geralt spread his legs wider and wider in anticipation. He felt the excessive oil drip between his cheeks and he squirmed. He wondered what it would feel like if the oil was Jaskier’s own seed, filling him up, dripping between his thighs. He made sure his legs were spread wide open, as an invitation for those clever fingers to dip inside, to take advantage of their position to spread him open and use him as his master pleased.

“Please.” He whispered desperately, not knowing what he was asking for. “Please.” He would beg for anything, if only Jaskier would give it to him.

“Hush, darling, you’re okay. I’’ll look after you.”

Jaskier would. He knew he would take care of him.

He didn’t know why Jaskier didn’t realise how much Geralt wanted him. Jaskier was constantly flirting, why hadn’t he just fucked him already? Had Geralt not been obvious enough that he was interested? He had practically stumbled over himself to pretend to be Jaskier’s slave. He had lay over Jaskier’s lap and been spanked, even after being given the option not to. He had allowed himself to be collared. Yet, Jaskier hadn’t groped him even a little bit as he massaged him. He was completely respectful and not flirtatious at all, as the bard usually would be in this sort of situation.

Jaskier had certainly hinted at being interested in Geralt before; flirting outrageously at any given opportunity; running his hands over his muscles and squeezing his biceps playfully; stealing his shirts and letting the collars slip seductively off his shoulder while sending seductive looks from underneath long, fluttering lashes. It made Geralt want, desperately, to give into the flirtation, to let his friend have his way with him. The only problem, the one thing stopping him from giving in and letting go, was the fact that he was in love with the bard.

His sweet, oblivious best friend, his beloved master, had no idea what the large, dangerous, inhuman witcher truly felt for him. He may have guessed that the witcher lusted after him, but he would never have guessed that the witcher was in love with him. As far as the humans knew, witchers couldn’t love. He didn’t know how Jaskier would react to such discovery. Probably with disgust and repulsion. He couldn’t cope with that, couldn’t cope with his friendly, joyful bard’s expression collapse into disgust. Jaskier would probably sleep with him if he asked, but Geralt never wanted to chance it, never wanted to scare off his best friend.

Now his love had his hands all over his naked body and collared him and touched him so gently and softly that Geralt couldn’t stop himself from shivering in response. He had finally given into his lustful urges and now was the time Jaskier seemed to change his mind about wanting him? He wanted Jaskier to fuck him, even if he couldn’t admit his feelings properly. He wanted to be as close to his love as he was allowed to be.

“I’m done now, my darling, turn over.”

Geralt rolled over onto his back and saw Jaskier facing away from him, putting his lotion and oil back into his bag. When Jaskier turned around again, he froze as he saw Geralt’s face. For several, terrified seconds, he thought Jaskier could see the love written across his face.

“Oh, darling!” Jaskier gasped and rushed back to him, cupping his face in his hands. He rubbed tears away with his thumbs, which caused Geralt to startle. He hadn’t been aware he was crying at all.

“Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart? Does it hurt still? Are you upset? Please, tell me what you need.”

“Nothing.” Geralt mumbled. He needed nothing at all, although in this moment he had little doubt that Jaskier would retrieve him anything he asked for. He couldn’t tell him the thoughts that lead to his tears either, without admitting his deepest secret.

“Then what do you want, dear heart? Please don’t say nothing.”

With the answer at the tip of his tongue banned, Geralt asked for the only thing he truly wanted. “Hold me?”

Jaskier dove forward and wrapped his arms around Geralt, cuddled his close and kissed his forehead. Geralt curled up close. “Of course, my darling, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read this back to myself and got embarrassed. I feel like I should apologise for this... but I'm not sorry. 
> 
> Hope you liked it. Don't forget to leave a comment if you did! <3
> 
> Edit: does anyone know how to get back a comment you've accidentally deleted? 😳


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what do you think?” Jaskier asked, holding up the two options as Geralt stared, flushed.

Jaskier lowered the gags slowly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t the one who should be sorry; Lord Harnhem had insisted that Geralt be gagged for the rest of the week following the incident at the banquet. Geralt wasn’t a fan of being gagged. It wasn’t that he hated them, it was only that he preferred his mouth to be used for other, more fun activities. Then again, it wasn’t like Jaskier was letting Geralt suck his dick, so perhaps being gagged didn’t really matter. He wasn’t the one who needed to conduct conversation with Lord Harnhem. He looked between the two gags.

One matched his collar; leather with a silver ball in the middle to put his mouth around. He wondered if Jaskier bought it from the same discrete brothel he had purchased the collar and lead. He didn’t know what to do with the idea that Jaskier was thinking about gagging him, as he bought him a collar and lead, so he quickly dismissed the thought. He didn’t want to linger on it.

He would wrap his lips around the silver ball of the gag and wish it were Jaskier’s cock, while the cold metal left him with a brutal reminder that it wasn’t. He knew that, after a while, the ball would make his jaw ache as it was kept pried open for hours, leaving drool dripping down his chin. He didn’t think he could cope with that for more than one day, even as Jaskier whispered encouragements and rewarded him with massages and cuddles in the evenings.

“The silk one.” He grunted. The other option was a length of silk Jaskier pulled from the depths of his bag. Geralt was sure it was actually a scarf, although he had never seen Jaskier wearing it. The scarf was a dark grey colour which didn’t match any of the bard’s colourful outfits. Or, at least, the colour didn’t match. If Geralt asked about it, he would probably be subjected to a three hour lecture on how colour wasn’t the only thing that brought an outfit together, so he didn’t bother to ask.

“Yes, good choice, darling.” Jaskier said and Geralt lit up at the praise. “This one is definitely going to be comfier for you. Shall we put it on now? We can try it out and see if it’s okay for you or if we need to find something else to use?”

“Hm.” Geralt agreed, then added “Yes.” Jaskier liked it when Geralt used his words, and he wanted to please Jaskier so badly.

“Come here, dear heart.”

Geralt walked closer to Jaskier and bent down slightly to give Jaskier easier access to his head. Jaskier tied the silk gag around his mouth then, to Geralt’s surprise, pushed the gag into his mouth so his long fangs protruded over the top of it. He let out a muffled, confused noise at the action and Jaskier grinned nervously.

“I just want to make sure everyone here remembers that they shouldn’t mess with you.”

“Hnngh.” Even his usual grunt was muffled through the gag. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Despite his internal debating, Jaskier had used the gag to keep his mouth prised open anyway. As usual, his friend was completely unpredictable. He could already feel the saliva building up and knew that he would be drooling within minutes.

“I suppose we’ll need to figure out a new way for you to tell me you want to stop.” Jaskier mused.

Geralt frowned. “Potha-ah.”

Jaskier removed the gag immediately. “Are you alright, darling? What do you need?”

“You can still understand me when I’m gagged. I see no reason to change it. Besides, I already told you I’m not going to use it.”

“And I’ve told _you,_ you should use your word whenever you need to.” Jaskier scolded, although it was softened by his hand cupping Geralt’s jaw. “Dear heart, please don’t let me upset you as I did yesterday. I want you to use your words when you need to.”

“You didn’t, hm, you did not upset me yesterday.”

“Darling, you were crying! I hurt you.”

“It-it wasn’t you.”

“Then what was it? Please, dear heart, I want to make sure nothing upsets you again, as it did yesterday.”

“I had, hm, a lot of time to think, got too inside my head. Overwhelmed.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. What if we find things for you to do instead of being forced to follow me around all the time?”

“Hm?”

“I only thought, if you have something else to focus on, you won’t spend as much time thinking sad thoughts. What do you think, darling?”

“Hm… I think that’s a good idea.”

Jaskier beamed at his approval and bounced on his heels adorably. “So, what do you think you should do?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just give me orders and I’ll follow them.”

“Alright, dear heart. Are you sure you’re okay with me doing that?”

Geralt shrugged. “I trust you.”

“Oh!” Jaskier whispered, sounding a lot more soft and wistful than he had done for the rest of their conversation. His hand slid down from Geralt’s jaw to press to his own chest, right above his heart.

* * *

Geralt’s eyes rolled back in his head as he prevented himself from moaning out loud. Jaskier’s fingers absent-mindedly ran through his hair as he knelt next to him. He had no idea how long he had been kneeling for but it was long enough for his mind to turn hazy and calm. He closed his eyes with a contented hum and didn’t open them again until he felt eyes boring into him. When he opened them, he found Jaskier looking at him thoughtfully.

“Darl-ah, Witcher, go tend to my darling horses, won’t you.”

He nodded in agreement, unable to reply with the silk gag wrapped around his mouth. Despite Jaskier’s concerns about showing Geralt could be dangerous, Geralt had explained his discomfort at having his mouth forced open for several hours. So Jaskier moved the gag to rest on his lips instead, still tied firmly. Geralt didn’t truly mind being gagged; the only real issue was that the scarf smelt of Jaskier. The scent of roses and sweet clementines and a hint of chamomile oil clung to the fabric and forced its way into Geralt’s senses.

Geralt was certain the silk scarf had been laying at the bottom of Jaskier’s bag for weeks, if not months, and so the scent of the rest of his belongings seeped into the fabric. It felt as though he had buried his nose into Jaskier’s doublet right after the bard had taken it off to get in the bath… not that Geralt had ever done that. Well, maybe once. But only after Jaskier had carelessly dropped his clothes onto the floor and entered the bath behind a room divider so they couldn’t see each other. Jaskier had only been wearing that doublet for two days. Was that better or worse? He had made sure to put the doublet down before Jaskier caught him sniffing at his clothes like an animal, although he did get a strange look from his friend when Jaskier realised that Geralt had neatly folded his clothes and left them on the end of the bed. Neither of them had acknowledged it out loud, so he couldn’t have been too mad about Geralt moving his possessions.

He wanted to please Jaskier and he was very good at taking care of Roach and Pegasus. He got to his feet and went out to the stables to tend to them. He was halfway through brushing down Roach when he seemed to blink awake and remember their earlier conversation about giving him something to do. Geralt rested his head on Roach’s neck, overcome with a small wave of dizziness as he became fully aware of himself.

Geralt sighed happily. Jaskier was so kind to him, did his best to take care of him. He hadn’t needed the distraction today when Jaskier ordered him to look after the horses, since his brain was fuzzy and warm without any thoughts running through it at all. It was only when he was raised out of the soft haziness yesterday that his worries returned, drowning him in anxiety about how little he deserved Jaskier and how the bard would never love him back. Today, the haziness faded away and only a soft fuzz was left, consuming his mind like a warm winter cloak as he obediently carried out his orders.

He wriggled in delight as he looked upon a job well done. Pegasus and Roach’s coats were brushed, their shoes picked and their tack shines. What was he supposed to do now? Should he find Jaskier and bring him out to the stables to show him his work? Would Jaskier tell him he had done well? Call him a good boy? Reward him with touch from his warm, steady hands? Should he wait in the stables until Jaskier fetched him? Should he return to Jaskier’s side and kneel down silently next to his master?

Roach nibbled at his hair and he stroked her neck fondly. Geralt was sure Jaskier wouldn’t mind if he spent some extra time in the stables. He would meet him in the chambers later on.

* * *

“Darling, there you are!” Jaskier beamed as he entered the room, and opened his arms wide in invitation. Geralt tucked himself up into Jaskier’s chest and let the bard wrap his arms around him. “Did you have a good time with Roach?”

“Hm.” He closed his eyes and hunched down to press his forehead to the side of Jaskier’s neck and revelled in the fact a human trusted him enough to allow him anywhere near his jugular. It made him want to return the same act of trust, to bare his throat in response.

“I’m glad to hear that, dear heart, but now you really do smell like horse!”

“Always do.” He mumbled.

“Well then, darling, what would you say to a bath?” Jaskier nodded towards a welcoming tub in the middle of the room filled with warm, clean water. Geralt eyed it suspiciously.

“What are you after?”

Jaskier shrugged, guilty at having been caught out. “I’d like to… discuss what happened at the banquet.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt looked away and frowned. He didn’t want to discuss it; Jaskier had given him exactly what he needed, exactly what he deserved, when he put Geralt across his lap and spanked him until he cried. He didn’t see what they had to talk about, but Jaskier could make a conversation out of almost anything. He supposed it made sense Jaskier would want to talk about his punishment, as he had made Geralt talk through almost every scenario before he had even agreed to let the witcher accompany him on this quest for information.

“ _After_ my bath?” Geralt negotiated and Jaskier giggled.

“Of course, my darling, we can wait until you’ve finished bathing. Would you like some privacy?”

Geralt shook his head. He didn’t know why Jaskier bothered asking if he wanted privacy every time he bathed; the bard had been present for every single bath he had taken while they travelled together. Occasionally he helped Geralt clean himself, gently and softly, but other times he made a nuisance of himself by pouring buckets of water over him without warning and convincing him to do ridiculous favours. Like when he begged him to be a bodyguard at Pavetta’s betrothal feast. Or when he convinced him to pretend to be Jaskier’s partner in front of his parents at his sister’s wedding. Or when he demanded that Geralt accompany him to a local dance festival and Geralt agreed without even thinking about it.

He stripped down and climbed into the bath as Jaskier added his usual salts to the water with a dramatic flourish. He flinched at the cool temperature and used Igni to heat the water up to scalding, as he preferred it. He sighed as the heat soothed his muscles, although he hadn’t been hunting for a few days so he didn’t actually need it. Jaskier took off his doublet and rolled up the sleeves of his chemise.

Oh, he was going to help today.

He gulped at the thought of Jaskier’s hands on him and, as Jaskier reached out to his neck, he groaned aloud.

Jaskier chuckled. “I always forget how much you love your baths, dear heart.”

“Hm.” Baths, sure, that was why he was moaning like a bitch in heat.

Jaskier unbuckled the collar around his neck and Geralt whined at the loss of the heavy leather. Geralt gasped as Jaskier wrapped one hand gently around his throat where the collar had been. The haziness from earlier came back in full force, all at once, as he took in how much control Jaskier had over him. He waited for Jaskier to tighten his grip, to cut off his air for a few seconds, just enough to leave him gasping and remind him who was in charge. He didn’t. Instead, Jaskier brushed his thumb lightly down the side of Geralt’s neck.

“How does it feel, dear heart? Not too terribly chafed, are you? Does it hurt? Have you swolen at all? Is it still comfortable?”

“Hm.” Geralt replied, completely content. He tilted his head back to give Jaskier easier access to his throat. Maybe Jaskier would prefer to choke him in another way. He eyed Jaskier’s crotch and found, to his disappointment, that the bard wasn’t turned on at all.

“Darling, remember what I said about using your words.” Jaskier prompted him, sternly.

Geralt swallowed and Jaskier’s gaze followed his adam’s apple as it moved, underneath where his hand lay. “Hm. S’good.”

“What’s good, sweetheart? The bath?”

“Collar.” Geralt hummed. “Feels good. Safe. S’nice.”

Jaskier froze, his thumb pausing it’s administrations on his neck. Geralt whined and tried to lean into his grip. He didn’t know why the bard was acting so shocked, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about how much he liked this.

“Oh.” Jaskier breathed. “So that’s why you’ve been acting so strange the last couple of days.”

“S’ry.” Geralt closed his eyes. He couldn’t find it in him to care about his own apparently strange behaviour when he was sitting naked in a bath Jaskier ran for him with Jaskier’s hand wrapped around his throat. The only thing that could make the situation any better would be Jaskier’s other hand wrapped around Geralt’s cock or his fingers stuffed inside of him.

“You- you don’t have to be sorry, my darling. There’s nothing to apologise for. I-I do have some questions for you, if that’s alright?”

“Hm… yes.”

“Good, great, good. That’s good. Um, did you already know? That you liked this sort of thing? I mean, before you agreed to do this mission?”

“Yyyes. Knew, hm, knew you’d take care of me.”

Jaskier made a wounded noise. “And have I? Dear heart, have I taken care of you properly, as you need? Have you been getting everything you wanted?”

“Hm. Yes.”

“Okay, is it just the collar you like or- or is it anything else?”

“I like it when you’re in charge. You get bossy.”

“Bossy!” Jaskier gasped, offended, and clutched at his chest dramatically.

“Hm, like it when you’re bossy. Kneeling next to you. I like belonging to you.”

Jaskier gasped. “Oh, darling! I-I just have a couple more questions. Is that alright? Are you up for answering just a couple more questions?”

“Yes.” He was up for answering questions. He was up for anything Jaskier asked of him. If that meant he had to explain in detail how much he wanted the bard, then so be it. Or was this perhaps leading up to making Geralt beg? He could beg. When he and Yen were together, she had told him he was excellent at begging, although it had never made her give him what he wanted until _she_ decided to. Eskel didn’t like the begging at all, so Geralt avoided it with him. He thought Jaskier would probably enjoy it; he had been constantly telling Geralt to use his words. Would he ask Geralt to describe exactly what he wanted the bard to do to him? Every touch? Every kiss and lick to his person? Every bite? Every detailed fantasy scenario?

“When you said you liked belonging to me… did you mean in general you like feeling like you belong to your partners? Or-or did you mean… specifically… me?”

Geralt frowned at the question. Technically, the answer was both. He didn’t think that was what Jaskier was asking. Did he want to belong to all of his partners? Well, he had with Eskel and then later with Yen and more than anything he wanted to belong to Jaskier. He had never wanted to belong to any of the strangers he slept with or the women at the brothels he visited.

“Hm.”

“It’s okay if you can’t answer the question, dear heart, I won’t make you.”

“Hm.” Geralt relaxed. He was uncertain how to explain himself and the fuzz taking over his mind and the hand around his throat didn’t help at all.

“Okay, next question. Was there anything you _didn’t_ like that I’ve done?”

“Hm.” Geralt thought about the gag. It wasn’t Jaskier’s idea, rather it was Lord Harnhem’s, so did it count as something Jaskier had done? Or something Lord Harnhem had done? Jaskier would probably count it as something he did, himself, since he was the one that actually tied the gag. “The gag.”

“Just the gag?”

“Hm. Yes.” Geralt watched Jaskier’s shoulders lower in relief and realised, for the first time, that they had been tense. Jaskier breathed out a sigh.

“Will you… be okay? To wear it for the rest of the week? We can leave early if you need to.”

Geralt nodded his head enthusiastically. “Only the silk one though. Not the metal ball.”

“Of course we can do that, dear heart.” Jaskier agreed, softly.

“Hm. Rather you gag me with your cock anyway.”

Jaskier choked on his own spit, his eyes wide and shocked, and flailed his arms in embarrassment. He recovered quickly.

“Just one more question.”

“Then I can have my bath?” Geralt asked suspiciously. This conversation seemed very similar to the one he imagined Jaskier was going to make him have about what happened at the banquet.

“Yes, my darling, then we can bathe you.”

“Hm.”

“Is there anything you need me to avoid? We talked about things you didn’t like that have already happened, but is there anything that could happen in the future I need to avoid?”

“Do anything you want to me. I like belonging to you.”

Jaskier blushed prettily and smiled as he looked down bashfully. “Alright, sweetheart, I’ll ask you again when you’re not so… when you’re feeling more focused.”

Geralt knew his answers would stay the same, once the haziness had faded, but if that was what Jaskier needed, then he would answer all his questions over and over again until his love was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt got his mandatory bath in this chapter; he needs one in every fic
> 
> Jaskier put his hand on Geralt's neck to make sure he wasn't hurt then he immediately forgot his hand was there haha
> 
> Next Chapter: More talking! Yay! That's what everyone is reading this fic for! 😂
> 
> I hope you liked it! Please remember to leave a comment if you did! :D <3


	4. Chapter 4

Goosebumps raised across his skin as Jaskier trailed his hands over Geralt’s chest, lathering him with soap and water. His breath hitched as Jaskier brushed across his nipples and he pressed up into the bard’s touch. Jaskier scrubbed him clean, further and further down Geralt’s body, stroked down his stomach and got incredibly close to his cock.

He whimpered and spread his legs. Was Jaskier finally going to touch him, like he wanted? Was the bard finally going to give in and fuck Geralt like the witcher was obviously gagging for? Were those long, clever fingers going to wrap around his dick? Push between his legs? Offer him the sweet pleasure of his master’s erotic touch? Use his body for his master’s own pleasure? To Geralt’s immense disappointment, Jaskier drew away at the last moment and moved onto washing his legs.

The bard worked his way slowly up from his feet, to his calves, to his thighs. Geralt kept his legs open invitingly, so Jaskier would know exactly what he wanted. When Jaskier was within touching distance of his privates once again, he pulled away completely and left Geralt to whine wantonly.

“Can you do the rest, my darling?”

“Why?” Geralt pouted. His master had washed the rest of him; why was his dick any different? Unless his master was disgusted at the thought of having to touch him down there.

“I don’t want to take advantage while you’re like this.”

“Like, hm, like what?” Maybe it was something Geralt could fix. He could still convince his master he was worthy of his touch, he could!

“Like-” Jaskier gestured vaguely to the entirety of Geralt’s being. “-this.” He finished lamely and Geralt realised he would not be getting a direct answer from his master that night.

He sighed and took the wash cloth and soap from Jaskier and cleaned himself, as instructed. It was so frustrating. He could smell his master’s lust; the delightful scent of roses and sweet clementines enhanced by the scent of campfire and whiskey. He knew the bard felt lust when he looked at Geralt’s naked body. Whenever he lusted after another human, he would flirt with them, touch them, take them to his bed or tumble into theirs. But when he looked at Geralt with his lust-lorn gaze, he turned away whenever their eyes met. He didn’t reach out to Geralt, and instead clutched his lute closer to his chest, fingers white with effort.

Jaskier never grabbed onto the front of Geralt’s armour and tug him down into a passionate kiss as he had done with several soldiers and knights. He never tucked Geralt’s hair behind his ear as he did for many barmaids and countesses and a couple of princesses. Geralt knew it was stupid, it just wasn’t fair! What did he have to do to get that sort of treatment from his master? His love? What did he have to do for Jaskier to grab him and kiss him and throw him onto a bed to have his way with him. There didn’t even need to be a proper bed – Geralt wasn’t picky!

Just before he could spiral into a heartbroken, pining mess of panic, Jaskier’s smooth voice cut straight through his thoughts. “Are you ready to talk now, my darling?”

“Talk?”

“Yes, dear heart, about what happened at the banquet.”

Geralt sighed and lowered his head. He had almost forgotten about that.

* * *

The two men lay next to each other on the bed, facing one another. Jaskier took one of Geralt’s hands in both of his. Geralt basked in the warmth of it.

“Are you back with me now, my darling?”

Geralt had not gone anywhere, except to the stables and had been in Jaskier’s presence for a few hours now. When he pointed this out to Jaskier, he received only an amused snort in response.

“Oh, sweetheart, I forget how adorably literal you can be sometimes.”

“Hm.”

“I meant, ah, for the last few days, have you been feeling different? I’m not quite sure how to explain it.”

“Oh.” Geralt nodded in understanding. “You mean the fuzz.”

“Yes, dear heart, does your mind still feel fuzzy?”

“No. It stopped in the stables.”

Jaskier sat up in shock. “In the stables? But you were by yourself! You came up alone?”

“Roach was there.” Geralt reminded him. Sometimes Jaskier forgot that he considered Roach a step above all humans and so counted her as excellent company. Jaskier reached down and brushed a lock of Geralt’s hair away from his face. Geralt held back a purr.

“I know, my darling, but still I must apologise most profusely. If I had known what you were experiencing, I never would have sent you away all by yourself.”

“We agreed you would give me a task.” Geralt pointed out sensibly. There was no need for Jaskier to apologise to him.

“Yes, dear heart, but that was before I realised you went into that fuzzy space in your head when you had your collar on.”

“I was fine.”

Geralt hoped Jaskier wouldn’t refuse to put his collar back on now he knew how much Geralt loved it. He hoped the bard could ignore Geralt’s yearning desperation for the bard to love him back, to fuck him hard. They still needed to get that information from Lord Harnhem. They still need to travel together, to remain friends, without Geralt’s unrequited feelings getting in the way.

“That’s good, my darling, I’m so glad you’re okay. But from now on I would prefer it if we stayed together, at least until we’ve gotten out of here.”

“Hm. That’s fine.” Geralt shrugged. He didn’t mind staying next to Jaskier, kneeling next to him the entire time. If he thought the bard would allow it, he would kneel next to him in their daily lives on the Path as well.

“Good, right, good.” Jaskier relaxed back against the headboard. Geralt stayed where he was, lying down, and looked up at his love worshipfully. Jaskier didn’t say anything at first. Was he waiting for Geralt to start the conversation? Well, he wouldn’t. He didn’t even want to have this conversation in the first place. He wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.

Jaskier looked down at him lazily. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, darling, but I’m sorry, it’s important.”

“Hm.”

The bard pulled Geralt up to rest on his chest, with his head tucked underneath his chin. When Geralt blinked, he felt his eyelashes brush across the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“Should I start?”

“Hm.”

“That’s exactly what I thought you would say. Alright, here it is;” Jaskier took a deep breath. “Lord Harnhem isn’t exactly the kind of person who’s great to his staff-”

Geralt snorted.

“Indeed. So, I highly doubt he’s going to be any nicer to you, especially since he thinks you’re a slave. He’s likely going to insist on you being punished again before the week is out.”

“Hm.”

“What we need to do is discuss what you’re comfortable with. I’m sorry I ended up deciding to spank you without even asking properly. I just panicked. I should have told Lord Harnhem I would punish you in private.”

Geralt shrugged. “It’s fine. You can spank me.”

Jaskier squeaked. If Geralt could see his face from where he lay, he thought his love might be blushing. He wished he could see such a pretty sight without removing his face from the warm neck it was buried in. “Yes, well, yes. Thank you for telling me, darling. Is that what you prefer I do if Lord Harnhem requests you be punished again?”

He considered it. He could ask Jaskier for anything as a punishment and he knew, with utter certainty, that the bard would do it for him. He bit back a moan. He could ask Jaskier to humiliate him, grab him by the hair and drag him to the ground and make him rut against the floor until he came. He could ask Jaskier to tie him up and leave him unable to move for hours, until his muscles were trembling and he was dripping with sweat. He could ask Jaskier to choke him with the collar and lead until his vision went black and he saw stars behind his eyelids.

“Spank me.” Geralt finally replied. Despite his inner fantasies, he didn’t want to scare off his love with how much he wanted him, desired him. He didn’t want Jaskier to turn away in disgust, which could happen with a lot of the things Geralt liked. He didn’t want that to happen with Jaskier. His love now knew he loved being collared and spanked; how could he not when Geralt’s hard cock was rubbing on his lap as he spanked him? “Hand. Belt. Crop. Anything you want. Could use a whip. Or a paddle. Hairbrush.”

“Shit.” Jaskier breathed. He ran his hand through Geralt’s hair. “Alright, dear heart, I’ll spank you if you need to be punished again.”

Geralt gasped quietly and tried not to squirm in Jaskier’s grip. Fuck, he could barely handle his love saying something so terrifyingly sexy to him. How was he going to survive actually getting punished again? How had he survived the first time instead of just crumbling into ashes at his love’s first touch.

“Hm.” Geralt glanced up.

“What is it, my darling? It’s your turn to talk.”

“Don’t, hm, don’t let anyone else punish me? Just you?”

Jaskier pulled him closer, held him tightly to his chest. “I won’t let anyone else touch you, dear heart.”

“Good.”

Geralt belonged to Jaskier, nobody else was allowed to touch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I give you More Talking. That's why you clicked on it when you saw all those tags, right? haha
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to leave a comment if you did! <3


	5. Chapter 5

When Geralt awoke the next morning, their legs were tangled together and their arms were loosely wrapped around each other. Jaskier lay before him, still asleep, and he took the chance to admire his friend as he slept slack-jawed and lightly drooling. His hair was tousled adorably in a way he would never show in public – that particular sight was for Geralt’s eyes only. Jaskier’s fingers twitched quickly and Geralt smiled fondly. His lovely bard was always composing and performing, even in his sleep. Jaskier groaned and blinked his eyes open reluctantly. He froze when he realised Geralt was already awake and observing him, before he smiled shyly.

“Can I convince you to go back to sleep, dear heart?”

“Hm, no. Harnhem wants you to have brunch with him.”

“Ugh!” Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “Fine! Fine, I’ll get up!” He rolled out of the bed, taking the blankets with him, and landed on the rug with a solid thump. Geralt watched him as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees before he stood up properly, still entirely wrapped in blankets.

“There was an easier way to do that.”

“I don’t think there was.” Jaskier called over his shoulder as he dug through his bag for the outfit he had assigned for brunch.

Jaskier had a lot of different outfits for very specific occasions and all of them were named. This one was named Brunch With A Secret Enemy. He kept a few of them at his home in Lettenhove and most of them at his staff quarters in Oxenfurt. Geralt hoped that once he invited Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, he would keep some clothes there too, ones to keep him warm and happy. Knowing the bard, the outfits would all consist of expensive furs and matching gloves and impractically soft chemises that contrasted with incredibly practical walking boots. Geralt missed him terribly every winter, so every year in the autumn, he secretly moved a piece of clothing from Jaskier’s pack into his own. Whenever he missed him too much, he would take the stolen item out and sniff at it until it lost its scent after a couple of weeks. Somehow, Jaskier had never even noticed, even when his missing items turned back up in the spring, after they met up again.

Jaskier had brought seven outfits with him for this mission. They included; Meeting A Secret Enemy; Attending A Feast With People You Hate; and Daring Escape From A Noble’s Mansion. Geralt hoped that last one wasn’t going to be literal, but wasn’t too positive knowing his own luck. Jaskier planned to wear it on their last day at Lord Harnhem’s estate.

“What do you think?” Jaskier spread his arms out and twirled around to give him a better view of Brunch With A Secret Enemy.

“Looks like all your other doublets.” If Jaskier wanted an opinion on fashion, he should have asked Yen or Lambert instead of Geralt, who had no interest in such things.

“Don’t make me spank you again, you naughty boy!” Jaskier laughed and wagged his finger playfully.

Geralt grinned back at him and tugged the sheets up slightly to cover his shaft as it twitched with interest. He lay one hand dramatically across his forehead, as he had seen the bard do many times, and pretended to swoon.

“Oh no.” He said in monotone. “Please do not spank me, sir, I’m sorry I’ve been bad.”

He took delight in watching Jaskier blush sweetly at the joke.

“What are you going to do while I’m at brunch?” Jaskier asked conversationally.

Geralt raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Kneeling at your feet, _master._ ”

“Ah… right… sorry, dear heart, I sort of just… forgot for a second, that we were still on the mission.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Trust Jaskier to forget their important fact-gathering mission right in the middle of it. His love was one of the most scatter-brained people he had ever met.

“It’s only that you’re not wearing your collar right now and things felt like they were back to normal, you know?”

“Hm.”

Geralt picked up the collar from the floor, where Jaskier had dropped it the day before He handed it over to the bard.

“Are you ready for me to put your collar on now, my darling? Remember you won’t be able to take it off again until tonight.”

“Ready.”

“And are you ready to be gagged as well, dear heart?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier buckled the collar around Geralt’s neck and tucked two fingers underneath it to check that it wasn’t too tight. He tugged slightly and Geralt resisted the urge to moan and collapse to his knees right then and there in front of his master. He shouldn’t act too submissively in private when he didn’t have the excuse of their disguise to do so. He didn’t want Jaskier to be upset with him for taking advantage of how much he liked the bard being in control. His love had no idea how much Geralt wanted him.

“Lean down for me a little, sweetheart?”

Geralt obeyed. Jaskier pulled the dark grey, silk scarf out of his bag and tied it tightly around Geralt’s mouth.

“Tell me what your safe word is.” He ordered.

“Posthaduh.”

“Good boy.” Jaskier praised and Geralt pushed down a whimper.

* * *

“It really is quite tame, isn’t it?” Lord Harnhem mused to Jaskier. “When it’s gagged, I mean.”

“Yes, my lord, he only bites when I tell him to… usually.”

Lord Harnhem gave out a high pitched cackle. “Of course _you_ would use a witcher for _that!_ ”

Jaskier laughed tightly. “Yes, well, haven’t you heard? I’m insatiable.” His fingers raked nervously through Geralt’s hair and Geralt arched up into the touch.

“Oh, Julian, if you’re so terribly insatiable, you don’t have to resort to a _witcher_ to lend you a hand.” Lord Harnhem placed a hand on Jaskier’s thigh and began rubbing circles on it, slowly clambering higher and higher. Jaskier’s eyes widened in response and the lord leaned in close, looming over him and invading his personal space. Lord Harnhem obviously didn’t see anything out of place, but Geralt could smell the stench of fear emanating from Jaskier. He let out a loud growl from behind the gag.

Lord Harnhem snorted unattractively. “It certainly doesn’t like anyone else touching its master, does it?”

“Witchers do tend to be protective, my lord.”

“Yes, well, you’d better order it away for a while. I wouldn’t want it to interrupt while we have our… fun.” He brushed his hand the rest of the way up Jaskier’s thigh, grabbed his privates, and squeezed hard. Jaskier yelped and Geralt leapt to his feet and tossed Lord Harnhem to the floor, sending the man sprawling. Lord Harnhem sat up, outraged and red in the face.

“G-Witcher!” Jaskier cried out. “Get back here, now!”

His tone brooked no argument and suddenly Geralt felt ashamed at his actions. He had, once again, put their mission in jeopardy and put Jaskier in danger, and why? Because he was jealous? Because Lord Harnhem was getting a little handsy with his master? Jaskier could handle himself, Geralt knew that. He had no excuse to have acted as he did. He knelt in front of his master and awaited his punishment.

“Are you alright, my lord?”

“Quite.” The man sniffed. “I suppose you _did_ warn me that it was protective. But it did attack me in the most brutish manner, so I should see it punished.”

“Oh, my lord, I’m afraid I’m the only one able to punish him. You felt how strong he was; he will just fight off anyone else.”

“Still! I insist on watching this punishment, as it was my own person harmed!”

“Of course, my lord, what do you say to another hundred strikes?”

“I say lay on! It certainly seemed to fix it’s behaviour last time.”

“As you wish,” Jaskier inclined his head. “Witcher, over my knee, now.”

Geralt raised himself from his knees and bent over his master’s lap without complaint. Jaskier kept one hand on the small of Geralt’s back as he did something with his other hand that the witcher couldn’t see from where he lay. He was shifted slightly as Jaskier tugged his trousers down to bare his arse in front of someone else for the second time that week.

“Are you ready, witcher? I’m going to strike you a hundred times and you’re going to count each one. If you lose count, I will start again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.” Geralt attempted to reply obediently, but was muffled by the gag.

Jaskier cracked down and Geralt jerked forward and yelped in shock. Fuck, he was using a belt. That’s what he had been doing with his other hand. He really was going to punish Geralt properly, just like the witcher wanted him to do. Lord Harnhem let out a cruel laugh.

“I didn’t hear it count.”

“Me neither.” Jaskier agreed and brought the belt down hard on Geralt’s arse again. Geralt cried out, but this time remembered to let out a muffled “Wun!”

Jaskier cracked the belt down again. “Tuh!”

“Free!”

“Fuhr!”

“Fuv!”

He flushed red as Jaskier and Lord Harnhem laughed at his muffled attempts to count. He flinched every time the belt cracked down on his arse. He whimpered and whined and squirmed as his master spanked him brutally and painfully. The delicious humiliation consumed him as he lost count of the strikes around the mid thirties. He tried to beg and plead but the gag prevented him from using proper words.

Jaskier readjusted him, so the bard was holding him up by the back of his shirt with one hand as he held the belt in his other hand. Geralt was struck with the sudden, titillating realisation that Jaskier was strong enough to lift up a witcher, to lift up Geralt, one handed.

“Oh, witcher, what did I tell you about losing count?” Jaskier sighed. Geralt tried to rock forward and rut against Jaskier’s knee but he was held up, unable to get any friction on his crotch.

“Pleeth, pleeth.” Lord Harnhem likely thought he was begging Jaskier to stop his punishment, but Geralt didn’t want that. All he wanted was for Jaskier’s entire focus to be on him and him alone.

“Pleeth!” He cried out desperately, when Jaskier began striking him again.

“That’s not a number, witcher.”

“Wun!”

“No, witcher, you lost count already. That means this next one is number one. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Wun!” He squeaked out as he was hit with the belt again.

“Tuh!”

“Free!”

Geralt wriggled in place and yelped as Jaskier belted him in response. “Fuhr!”

He could tell this would be a long punishment. He thrust down and encountered only his trousers where they had bunched up, after Jaskier had tugged them down to expose his arse but leave his cock modestly covered. He whined and wondered if his master would at least let him cum if he begged well enough for it.

* * *

Jaskier lead Geralt back to their chambers by his leash and Geralt limped after him. He relished in the stripes of pain that pressed into his skin as he walked. He wished the reminder of Jaskier striking him wouldn’t fade away before morning. He wished the marks could stay longer, wished that his master could mark him permanently.

They entered the chambers and Jaskier slammed the door behind them and locked it quickly before he detached the lead from the collar and ushered Geralt over to the bed. Geralt sat down and watched Jaskier rustle through his bags to grab the bruise balm and the chamomile oil. He felt the stripes of bruises where Jaskier had belted him press into the bed. Jaskier spun around and held up the jars triumphantly.

“Strip off your clothes and lay on your stomach, sweetheart.” He ordered.

Geralt obeyed and buried his face in the pillows as he waited. Jaskier had forgotten to order him to take off his gag, or maybe he had done it on purpose. He spread his legs slightly to give Jaskier space to sit between his thighs.

He whined as Jaskier rubbed bruise balm onto Geralt’s already fading wounds. He pressed up into Jaskier’s grip and moaned as his master shoved him carefully back down onto the bed and made his cock press into the mattress. He started to thrust his hips forward to rut against the bed, wishing it were Jaskier’s boot. Jaskier moved his hands to Geralt’s waist and held him in place, preventing him from taking his pleasure.

“Don’t move, alright, my darling?” Jaskier instructed softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Geralt stopped attempting to move and gripped tightly onto the pillows next to his head. Jaskier usually liked him to confirm his orders with words, but the gag remained and so he only nodded in response.

“Darling? I need you to-” Jaskier broke off as Geralt looked up to await his instructions. He covered his mouth as he gasped. “Oh, dear heart, I’m so sorry! I thought you’d taken the gag off when you took off your clothes!”

Geralt shrugged. It didn’t matter to him, as long as Jaskier was happy. Did he want him to take it off?

Jaskier undid the gag and dropped it onto the bedside table. “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it, my darling?”

“Hm. Yes.” Geralt replied before he pushed his face back into the pillows.

“I am dreadfully sorry I hurt you, my darling, I didn’t want to compromise our mission but that’s no excuse for me to have used a belt instead of my hand.”

“S’good. Used belt. Hurt Harnhem more today. Should be, hm, punished more. Y’dont have to use balm.”

“Of course I do, sweetheart, I don’t want you to be hurting all night because of me.”

“Hm. Like it. S’nice.”

“Oh?” Jaskier asked hesitantly. “Okay, dear heart, I really do want to ask about that, but perhaps not while you’re still like this.”

“Y’could fuck me.” Geralt suggested bluntly.

Jaskier yelped. “What?”

“Like it. Spank me then fuck me. Hurts. S’good. Please?”

“No, dear heart, I’ll not take advantage of you while you’re not quite yourself. We can talk about that when we’ve finished our mission, if you still want to. If not, I’ll never bring it up again, if that’s what you want.”

Geralt whined as Jaskier poured chamomile oil onto his back and dug his thumbs into the muscles there. He didn’t want to _talk_ about it, he just wanted Jaskier to _fuck him._ He didn’t even need Jaskier to love him back, despite how desperately he craved him to. Geralt knew it wasn’t possible for anyone to love a witcher. All he could hope for, all he wanted, was for his love to fuck him. Maybe Jaskier really didn’t want to? Was all the flirting he did with Geralt simply teasing? An inside joke between friends? But… Jaskier had said they could talk about it. They wouldn’t be talking about it if they weren’t going to do anything about it.

“Y’can fuck me n’xt week.” Geralt acquiesced gracelessly.

“Alright, my darling, if you still want me to fuck you next week, I will. All you have to do is ask.”

“Hm.” Geralt agreed happily. Finally, he had a proper answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised...more spanking!
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed it! <3


	6. Chapter 6

“Hm. Geralt eyed the hot chocolate Jaskier handed to him as soon as he woke up. He loved hot chocolate. Jaskier knew he loved hot chocolate. Jaskier also didn’t usually bother with bribery, preferring to bother Geralt until the witcher finally agreed to his plans.

“There’s no need to look at it like that, darling, it’s not poisoned.”

“I know you wouldn’t poison me.” It was important Jaskier knew that, knew that Geralt trusted him above all others, know that Geralt knew for a fact that Jaskier would never hurt him. He propped himself up on the pillows behind him and cradled the human-sized mug in his overly large hands. They usually dwarfed mugs with their inhuman size, but this one in particular was larger than most other mugs. Geralt couldn’t stop the fond smile that spread across his face at the thought of Jaskier searching around for the largest mug he could find, something big enough to fit a witcher.

“I have a plan.” Jaskier informed him, once he had finished drinking. “And you are not going to like it.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“Hm. If you had to bribe me into it, I’m not going to like it.”

“I already told you that you weren’t going to like it! That doesn’t change the fact that it’s a good plan! Anyway, that wasn’t a bribe, I just like looking after you.”

Geralt was almost knocked off his position at the statement, but he did his best to ignore his love telling him that he actually _enjoyed_ taking care of Geralt.

He sighed. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to accept Lord Harnhem’s advances.”

“No.”  
“Yes, I am, and while he’s falling asleep, I’ll grab the documents we need from his desk.”

“That’s too dangerous.”

“That’s what you said about this entire mission and yet here we are!”

“And yet here we are.” Geralt mumbled. “And you’re sure there’s not another way to get into his rooms?”

“Oh, my darling, you don’t think I actually _want_ to sleep with that beastly little man, do you? I’d much prefer a different option, if such a thing existed, but as it is, this is the only plan we have.”

“You won’t have to sleep with him.” Geralt said as he got out of bed and rummaged through his potions bag. He produced a vial with a clear, odourless liquid inside.

“Now, now, dear heart, I despise the man as much as you do, but I don’t think we can get away with poisoning him outright.”

“It’s sleeping potion.” Geralt replied dryly. “We can slip it in his dinner before you convince him to take you back to his room and he’ll fall asleep before he has a chance to touch you.”

“Oh, you sweet thing, I could kiss you!” Jaskier flung his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and lay a loud, smacking wet kiss on his cheek. Geralt covered up his blush with an annoyed grumble and pretended to wipe off spit in disgust. “You’re a genius, dear heart, I can’t believe I sometimes forget how terribly clever you are!”

“Hm.” Geralt didn’t know how to respond to such high praise. “Tonight?”

“No, no, best wait until Saturday so we can leave the morning after. I don’t want to hang around here while there’s documents missing from his desk and risk his staff finding them in our belongings.”

“Makes sense.” Geralt agreed. “You, hm, you too.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“You are clever too.”

“Oh, you absolute darling!” Jaskier hugged him tighter and kissed his cheek again. Geralt let out a pleased hum.

* * *

They stayed like that for a while, with Jaskier’s arms wrapped firmly around him and Geralt too nervous to return the embrace. Finally, Jaskier let him go and grinned nervously. “Uhm, Geralt? There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“Ah, well, you see, since you very gently pushed Lord Harnhem to the ground yesterday while you were bravely defending me from his perverted advances-”

“Get on with it.”

“He wants me to tie your hands behind your back.”

“Fuck.”

The thing was, Geralt liked to be tied up. Getting tied up and left there, unable to move an inch as his partner did whatever they pleased to him, was quite possibly his favourite thing to do in the bedroom. Eskel didn’t understand Geralt’s wish to be tied up, but he indulged him all the same. The other witcher found solace in the fact that Geralt didn’t like gags and so could speak up if anything was wrong or if he wanted to be untied. Eskel favoured simple positions, tying Geralt’s hands and feet to the bedposts, and leaving him spread out ready for the taking, or bending Geralt in half and tying his knees to his chest.

Yen liked to tie him up in increasingly creative positions on and around her taxidermy unicorn and leave him there as she watched him sweat and tremble at the effort to keep the same position. She would leave him until he whined and whimpered and begged for her to untie him, then she would fuck him or ride him and leave him there for hours, begging and wanting more. She would occasionally return to fuck him and keep him there as her willing sex servant until she tired of the game. Yen had never insisted on him using a safe word, since she could read his mind at all times and stopped their games whenever he became uncomfortable or uneasy. It was a useful skill, but it meant that she stopped every time before he could enter his delightful, fuzzy head space, since she didn’t like not knowing when Geralt wanted to stop.

He wondered how Jaskier would tie him up, if he did it willingly. Would he put him in impossible positions, as Yen did, and leave him sweating there until he was pleading and begging and aching? Or would he prefer to simply tie him to the bed, like Eskel, and have his way with him gently and sweetly? Would he have his own, preferred method of bondage that Geralt could delight in learning?

Jaskier held up a length of rope apologetically. Geralt sighed, pretending to be put-upon, and turned around to give Jaskier access to his wrists. He stared at the wall in front of him, breathed deeply and evenly, and attempted not to show how much the rope binding would affect him.

“Alright, my darling, are you going to be alright if I tie your wrists now?”

“Hm. Yes, fine.”

“Okay, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He held still as Jaskier arranged his hands to the position of his liking, with one wrist crossed over the other. Jaskier wrapped the rope once, twice, thrice around his wrists, then tucked one end underneath. He pressed the other end into Geralt’s palm, which Geralt accepted automatically. He made a questioning noise.

“Can you hold onto that rope, dear heart? It’s very important you can do this for me.”

“Hm. Yes. I will hold it.”

“That’s excellent, good boy. Now listen, if you need to undo the ropes at any time today, or the rest of the week, just pull on that rope and it will all come undone. Give it a go now.”

Geralt pulled experimentally at the end of the rope and found that it gave way easily, and let the rest of the rope unwind and fall into his hands.

“Wonderful, darling. I’m going to tie you up again and you’re going to hold the rope, alright?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t let go unless it’s an emergency, just like your safe word, understand?”

“Yes.”

“That’s lovely. Thank you, dear heart. You’re doing so well for me.”

He gasped and held perfectly still as Jaskier tied his wrists in rope once more. He hadn’t considered this possibility, when musing what sort of bondage Jaskier would like. He hadn’t thought for a moment that Jaskier could simply order him to stay tied up and he would because that’s what his love wanted of him. Yen had poured magic into the ropes she used to keep his witcher strength contained and Eskel had used iron chains fused with dimeritium. Jaskier simply used a normal rope and told him to stay tied up and Geralt obeyed. He knew, to Jaskier, that this was part of their disguises for the mission, but Geralt could still feel his cock stir as Jaskier’s sure hands wrapped him up in soft rope.

He held onto the end of the rope and didn’t feel any urge to pull at it, as he knew that Jaskier didn’t want him to. He leaned down to let Jaskier collar and gag him for the day. Jaskier gently tucked a stray strand of Geralt’s long, white hair behind his ear and he felt his breath catch.

“There we go, my good darling boy.”

* * *

Before they had even left their chambers, Geralt’s brain was hazy. This would only be better if his legs were tied up too, so he would be unable to move at all. Would Jaskier be willing to do that for him? Should he beg for it? If his legs were tied, he would be unable to do anything Jaskier asked him to. Then he would have to be punished. He groaned at the thought.

Jaskier lead him to a balcony outside and attached his lead to the metal railing. It pulled a little at his collar, insisting on his awareness of his collar’s existence. Geralt didn’t bother attempting to let Jaskier know that the collar dug into the back of his neck and forced him to kneel a little higher than comfortable and lean a little further forward than he wanted. With his hands tied behind his back, if he fell forwards he would be unable to catch himself. He locked himself into position and settled in for a long day. It reminded him of Yen’s games, only when she tied him up, she made sure the ropes supported him properly and held him in place. This time, Geralt was made to stay in place with nothing to support him but his own will. Was Jaskier enjoying this? Enjoying watching Geralt struggle to remain upright? Struggle to maintain his composure? Fuck, he hoped so. Geralt gripped tightly at the ropes around his wrists but didn’t pull.

Lord Harnhem joined them on the balcony and Jaskier greeted him cheerily. The two humans conversed as Geralt knelt at his master’s side, unable to speak or move or even think properly. The haze consumed his mind so sweetly. All he could focus on were his collar and his leash and the ropes around his wrists. He wanted to thrust forward to give his rock hard member some relief but he couldn’t. If he moved forward, he would fall from where he knelt. He couldn’t sit back on his heels, since the railing his leash was attached to was too high. If he moved either forwards or backwards, he would be choked. He whined around the gag as he realised he was well and truly trapped.

For once he felt lucky that he was a witcher for if he had been human, he would have collapsed from the strain of staying in the same position within the first twenty minutes. For a witcher, staying in the same position for hours was child’s play. That was a good thing, since Jaskier didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere other than the balcony and so didn’t bother to untie Geralt at any point.

After a couple of hours, Lord Harnhem left them alone on the balcony and Jaskier pulled out his lute and a notebook that Geralt had gifted to him. He plucked away at the strings and scribbled in his notebook every so often. He seemed to ignore Geralt completely. Geralt let out a quiet whimper from behind his gag and Jaskier’s eyes darted from his work to his witcher. He glanced over him quickly and, when he found nothing out of the ordinary, he went back to composing. Surely, Jaskier could see how desperately he needed to move? How urgently he needed to come? His love had kept Geralt on edge for almost an entire week now and he was beginning to get truly desperate.

He whined and whimpered over the next few hours as Jaskier composed and ignored him. If only he wasn’t wearing a gag. Geralt was not above begging; he was rather fond of it, in fact.

Finally, finally, he felt he had to move. He could no longer sit there, limbs locked and trembling at the effort to stay in place. Geralt forgot himself and attempted to sit back. He was stopped by the collar cutting off his airway, forcing him to stay in place. He let out a choked noise and Jaskier finally looked up and eyed him properly. Geralt leaned up again so the collar would stop choking him.

“Oh, dear heart, be careful or you’ll choke yourself.” Jaskier chided gently. Geralt whimpered in response. Jaskier didn’t move to untie him or move his lead elsewhere. Geralt moaned. His master was doing it on purpose. He had to be. How could he torment Geralt so perfectly and not even realise what he was doing? Geralt tried to thrust his cock inside his breeches and fell forwards, choking himself again before he struggled back up into position.

“Are you trying to be a brat, darling?” Jaskier hissed, and glanced at the door as though anyone could walk through it at any moment. “I don’t want to have to punish you again!”

Fuck, he was being bad, wasn’t he? Jaskier should punish him, spank him again, bend him over his knee in front of everyone and show them all who Geralt belonged to. He was disobeying the unspoken order of not moving, which Jaskier had issued by tying him in place. He was being a brat, being naughty, disobeying orders. He should be punished. He wanted Jaskier to punish him. If only the gag weren’t preventing him from begging for it, Geralt could be over his love’s knee and sobbing right now.

With no chance of asking for punishment, he locked his limbs in place once again and settled himself in preparation for the rest of the afternoon. He would stay still. He could be good. He would be a good boy, for Jaskier, for his love, for his master.

* * *

“Well, I think today went rather well, don’t you?” Jaskier clapped his hands together eagerly.

Geralt gazed at him lazily from the bed where he had flopped down and didn’t answer. His collar, lead and gag were still on and his hands were still tied behind his back. Once they reached their rooms and Jaskier had let go of the lead, Geralt immediately went to the bed and flopped onto his side. He squirmed in place as he waited for Jaskier to stop babbling and fussing with his bags. He wanted to rut against the mattress, seek relief against the bed, but his master hadn’t given him permission to come and Geralt wouldn’t do so without it. He watched Jaskier through half-lidded eyes until he turned around and caught sight of Geralt relaxing on the bed.

“Oh, my darling, you can undo your ropes by yourself, remember?”

“Hng.”

“It’s alright, dear heart, I’ll take care of you.” Jaskier cooed as he quickly unwound the ropes from Geralt’s wrists. Geralt kept his hands behind his back because he had not been told to move them. He was a good boy. Jaskier took hold of his wrists, and brought them to his front. He rubbed his thumbs gently over the veins where the ropes had rubbed into Geralt’s skin. Jaskier pressed a tender kiss to the inside of each wrist and Geralt felt light headed at the action.

He whimpered. Jaskier dropped his wrists immediately and undid his gag. He cupped his face in delicate hands and inspected Geralt’s face closely. “How are you feeling, truly, dear heart?”

“Hm. Aches.”

“Aches? What does, darling? I made sure nobody touched you today.”

He didn’t know? Jaskier really didn’t know what he had been doing to Geralt all day? Didn’t he know he had left Geralt aching and desperate and yearning for his touch and his attention? Didn’t he know he had left Geralt trapped and sweating and trembling in place?

“Muscles. Ache. Stayed, hm, stayed still too long.”

“Oh, dear heart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you kneeling for so long!” Jaskier bit his lip and pushed Geralt gently onto his stomach on the bed. “Lay down, darling, I’ll give you a massage to loosen up your muscles, then I’ll call for a bath again so you can relax.”

“Hm.” He lay down obediently and awaited his third massage of the week. He wondered if he should tell Jaskier it was the position he was kept in for hours, rather than simply having to kneel, that caused his aches. He decided against it. If he told Jaskier then his love would do his best to prevent it from happening again and Geralt didn’t want to risk losing such a lovely, addictive feeling as when he was unchained from the balcony and allowed to collapse on the cold, stone floor. When they had taken on this important, fact-gathering mission, Geralt hadn’t realise it would consist of so many massages offered to him by his love.

_Being a witcher,_ he thought, as he spread his legs and allowed oil to drip between them, _couldn’t be_ all _bad luck after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently game Geralt is canonically into bondage lol
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Edit: this chapter seems to have worried some people, so this is just a reminder that this is entirely in Geralt's pov! Jaskier is keeping an eye on the situation, I promise! Sorry to everyone who was uncomfortable this chapter, I didn't realise it could be read like that <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Attempted Rape

Geralt let out a muffled growl through his gag as Lord Harnhem trailed his hand up Jaskier’s thigh. Jaskier tittered playfully and placed his hand on Lord Harnhem’s arm in flirtation. He leaned in close to the lord and fluttered his eyelashes as he spoke. Geralt didn’t bother to pay attention to what they were saying; he trusted Jaskier to be able to flirt anyone he wanted to into bed, especially someone who was already interested. Lord Harnhem whispered something in Jaskier’s ear, who responded by turning to face him so their noses brushed against each other.

Geralt clenched his hands into tight fists and did his best not to pull at the rope he held onto, as he craved to tear his love away from this disgusting, perverted lord. He let out another frustrated growl and Lord Harnhem chuckled.

“Your pet isn’t very fond of me.” He said, not looking away from Jaskier’s beautiful, sky-blue eyes. The bastard shouldn’t have been allowed to even glance in Jaskier’s direction, let alone stare longingly into his eyes, an indulgence Geralt had never allowed himself to partake in.

“He’s a witcher, my lord, he’s not exactly fond of anyone.” Jaskier waved him off casually, then expertly directed their conversation back to non-witcher related topics.

“You know, Julian,” Lord Harnhem said after a while. “You don’t have to call me my lord. I would much prefer it if you used my name.”

“I would be honoured too, Isiah.” Jaskier smiled and ducked his head, faux-shy and delectably sweet.

Lord Harnhem grinned. He caught Jaskier’s hand and pulled it towards him roughly to press a kiss to the back of it. He sent Jaskier a heated look with dark eyes and didn’t let go as his other hand came to rest indecently low on Jaskier’s back, in a mockery of a dance. Jaskier leaned into the lord’s touch and tilted his head in anticipation. Geralt’s eye twitched as Lord Harnhem swooped in and pressed his lips so hard against Jaskier’s that their teeth clacked together before they managed to fix it. Jaskier yelped in surprise and Geralt noticed Lord Harnhem had moved his hand down to grope at his arse. Lord Harnhem took advantage of Jaskier’s open mouth to shove his tongue down the back of his throat.

Jaskier gasped and squirmed in his grasp and Lord Harnhem let go of his hand to clamp his arm around his waist to keep him in place. The other hand stayed on Jaskier’s arse. Lord Harnhem walked them back until Jaskier was pressed against the wall and pushed his knee between his legs. Geralt, whose lead was still in his master’s hand, was unwillingly pulled along with them. Jaskier moaned as Lord Harnhem held him in place and rutted against his crotch.

“My lord- ahh, my- I mean- Isiah.”

Lord Harnhem moaned and thrust faster. “I love how you say my name, Julian, oh, I’ll have you screaming it.”

“A-ah! Wait, wait, Isiah, we can’t do this here. We’re in public!” Jaskier whispered urgently and glanced around the courtyard where they had been walking. It was frequented often by servants and guards taking shortcuts from one part of the mansion to another. If anyone walked outside, they would have a full view of their activities.

“Ahem.” Lord Harnhem stepped back and readjusted his own clothing as Jaskier fixed the doublet of his outfit named Seducing A Lord For Fun And Profit. It was, apparently, an outfit he had made use of many times. It was also separate from the outfit he had planned for later, named Sleeping With A Lord For Fun And Profit.

“Perhaps,” Jaskier bit his lip and looked up at Lord Harnhem from beneath his long, pretty lashes. “Perhaps, we could… continue this? After dinner?”

“Of course, Julian, I wouldn’t want to leave you… unsatisfied.”

“You could never do that, my lord. But I am ever so curious to see inside your rooms.”

* * *

They had barely enough time to return to their chambers and allow Jaskier to change into Sleeping With A Lord For Fun And Profit just before dinner. The name of the outfit bothered Geralt – if their plan worked out right, Jaskier wouldn’t need to sleep with Lord Harnhem at all. The outfit consisted of tighter than usual green trousers which cupped his arse in the most flattering manner; a matching three quarter sleeve green doublet which glimmered in the light to catch attention and showed off his delicate wrists; and a sheer chemise with a deep v-neck which _could_ be tied at the neck, but was always left open.

The first time Geralt had seen Jaskier wearing Sleeping With A Lord For Fun And Profit, he had almost fainted dead away and had never quite recovered since. The outfit’s only saving grace, as far as Geralt was concerned, was that the trousers were full length and didn’t expose Jaskier’s ankles, which would have been a step too far for public decency.

As they approached the dining room table, Jaskier dropped Geralt’s lead to the ground without bothering to attach it to anything, which allowed him to kneel down next to his master. Jaskier ran his hand through Geralt’s hair, making him sigh and close his eyes in contentment. He would miss this, after this mission was over, kneeling beside his love and simply existing. Maybe he could do it subtly? He meditated on his knees so perhaps he could start meditating closer to Jaskier, so it would almost feel like he was still allowed to worship him.

Lord Harnhem waited until Jaskier sat down on the seat next to him before he dragged the chair closer to himself. Geralt growled and was ignored by all. Jaskier giggled and spread his legs invitingly as Lord Harnhem loomed over him with one arm draped over his shoulders.

“I can’t wait to have you tonight.” Lord Harnhem whispered in Jaskier’s ear, quiet enough for humans to be incapable of hearing it, but Geralt heard every word. “I heard from a few friends of mine that you spent most of your time at Oxenfurt on your back.”

“Oh, Isiah, you simply can’t believe everything you hear from Valdo Marx.”

“Really, Julian? Even you can’t protest the reputation you’ve built up as a, well, a prevalent lover.”

“Isiah, dear, my reputation only began to build itself after I left my place of learning. You do realise, after all, that I attended and graduated from Oxenfurt at a much earlier age than most of my peers?”

“You did?” Lord Harnhem ran his hand up Jaskier’s thigh. “Really, you must tell me more… after dinner.”

“Of course, I would be more than willing to, ah, regale you with stories from my time at university.”

“Bring the witcher.” Lord Harnhem whispered. “I want it to watch as I take you. Let it witness the one person it keeps attacking fuck its master through the mattress.”

“I will, my lord.” Jaskier blushed charmingly, purposefully. “Is there anything else you wish me to bring?”

“Just your sweet little self, Julian. Oh, and you might want to cancel whatever plans you had for next week which meant you couldn’t stay with me longer. I’m going to fuck that tight little hole of yours so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

Jaskier gasped and managed to look so delightfully, decadently gorgeous that Lord Harnhem didn’t even notice his hand tip a small vial of odourless, colourless liquid over his wine glass.

* * *

Lord Harnhem coughed discretely as they lay their dessert forks down. “Well, Julian, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“I believe so, Isiah. Shall we adjourn to your chambers?”

They stood and Lord Harnhem only waited just long enough for Jaskier to grab Geralt’s lead before he put an insistent hand on his back. He lead them out of the dining hall and towards his chambers in such a rush that Jaskier stumbled slightly as he was hurried along with no particular regard for his person.

“Oh, Julian.” Lord Harnhem laughed. “Had a little too much wine with dinner, did you?”

“You know my reputation as a lover, Isiah, I can’t believe you would ignore my reputation as a lush!” Jaskier winked lasciviously.

Lord Harnhem cackled, high pitched and scraping, and smacked at Jaskier’s arse, making him squeak and jump in surprise. “Don’t be naughty, Julian, or I’ll have to punish you like you did to your pet witcher!”

“Maybe I’m into that.” Jaskier wriggled his eyebrows and Geralt fought back a whine.

_Was_ Jaskier into that? Was that why he had ignored all of Geralt’s incredibly obvious hints that he wanted Jaskier to fuck him? Did he prefer getting spanked and tied up rather than dishing out punishments? Geralt could do that for him, if he asked. Geralt would do anything for him. Maybe he wouldn’t enjoy it quite as much as Jaskier taking care of him, but Jaskier deserved to be looked after too. Jaskier deserved to have anything he wanted, be treated any way he wanted. They could even take turns, if Jaskier was amenable to taking care of Geralt in return, not that it was necessary. Simply the privilege of being allowed to touch his love would be reward enough.

Lord Harnhem smacked Jaskier’s arse three more times in quick succession and Jaskier’s scent suddenly shot through with fear and shame. His cheeks turned red and his lip wobbled slightly before he bit it to stop the trembling before Lord Harnhem noticed. Geralt growled and snarled at the lord for daring to upset his love.

Jaskier didn’t like it then. It was another lie he was insisting on to keep himself in Lord Harnhem’s good graces. Lord Harnhem looked over at Geralt as he heard his growls and smirked before he spanked Jaskier again. Jaskier yelped and flushed darker.

“D-don’t you think we should wait until we reach your chambers before we get any further with this, Isiah?”

“If you absolutely insist, Julian.”

Lord Harnhem grabbed tightly onto Jaskier’s waist and tugged him to his side, dragging him along the corridor until they reached a garish, golden door. They were lead into the most obnoxiously gilded chambers that Geralt had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on. He let go just long enough for Jaskier to lead Geralt over to a large oak desk and tie his lead to the leg of it, then he pounced again. Lord Harnhem grabbed ahold of both of Jaskier’s wrists and dragged him over to the four poster bed and flung him carelessly down onto it. Jaskier yelped as he bounced on the mattress before Lord Harnhem pushed him down and shoved his tongue down his throat until Jaskier gagged on it.

“A-ah!” Jaskier turned his head so he could breathe and gasped out, “Where’s your, uhmf, oil?”

“Oil?”

“Yyyes?”

“Oh, Julian, didn’t you hear me earlier? I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week. I’m going to to keep you in bed the whole time since you won’t be _able_ to leave, going to keep you so open and sloppy with my cum like the nasty little whore you are that you won’t even think about needing oil. You like that, don’t you, you disgusting little slut, you’’re already trembling with anticipation at the thought of taking me.”

Jaskier was shaking, but it wasn’t in excitement; the stench of fear drenched his very being and it was all Geralt could do to not break out of his bondage and break their cover in response to it. Jaskier stared up at Lord Harnhem with wide, anxious eyes. He didn’t snap back, as was his usual custom for men who harassed him and didn’t take no for an answer. Instead he remained completely silent, except for his hitching breath from barely prevented sobs.

Lord Harnhem didn’t wait for Jaskier’s answer before he flipped him onto his stomach and yanked his trousers impatiently down to his knees. Jaskier yelped and struggled to move away.

“W-wait! Wait, please, Isiah, I-I can’t-”

Lord Harnhem grabbed onto Jaskier’s hips as he attempted to crawl away and dragged him backwards, pressing him down onto the bed. Jaskier whimpered.

“Isiah, you’re not actually- without oil- I mean-”

“Shut up, Julian! For Melitele’s sake, if I’d known you were going to be this annoying in bed, I’d have insisted on a gag for you as well as that damn witcher!” Lord Harnhem snapped, and pushed Jaskier’s head down into the pillows with one hand to smother his protests.

With the other hand, he undid his trousers. Jaskier whimpered and trembled as he waited.

Geralt twitched.

Lord Harnhem lined his cock up in preparation to penetrate Jaskier.

Jaskier sobbed.

Geralt leapt forward and tackled the lord away, landing him heavily on the floor on the other side of the bed, punching Harnhem’s face twice as hard as he could without killing him. Half of his lead was left, snapped in twain, attached to the desk. Fuck their cover! Fuck this stupid plan! Jaskier should never have been hurt by this man and it was all Geralt’s fault for going along with the idea. The sleeping potion should have worked by… now.

He looked down and found Lord Harnhem unconscious and drooling on the floor.

Jaskier peered over the edge of the bed with wide eyes.

“Well… would have been helpful if he’d done that ten minutes ago.” He managed to rasp out before he began to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to leave a review if you did! <3


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt wrapped Jaskier up safely in his arms and hushed him reassuringly as he cried. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck and sniffled quietly. It was unnerving. Nothing Jaskier did was ever quiet. He should be making noise and talking and plucking at his lute, not trying to muffle his tears as he sobbed. Geralt rocked him gently and stroked his hair as Jaskier had done for him many times that week.

He hummed softly, one of Jaskier’s own songs. It was his favourite; for once it wasn’t about Geralt. It was a sad ballad about a court jester who was in love with a knight, but the knight never realised because he was already in love with the icy-hearted queen. The knight spends the song courting the queen and melting her icy heart, while the jester spends the song silently pining after his love until the knight and the queen decide to get married. They ask the jester to perform at their wedding and he found himself unable to perform out of jealousy, so he journeyed to Skellige and willingly followed a siren into the sea.

It was a sweet story, but it was terribly heartbreaking. He was certain it had some sort of artistic merit, although Jaskier refused to play it at competitions. It was Geralt’s favourite song, since it had a knight (and he liked knights) and it also warned people not to go anywhere near sirens (which he appreciated).

Jaskier clutched at Geralt’s shirt tightly and allowed him to hum the song twice over as he calmed himself down from sobs to silent tears. He looked up at Geralt with wide, wet eyes and trembling lips.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Wha’?” Geralt mumbled. He reached up with one hand to untie his gag as he continued to hold Jaskier with one arm. “What?” He repeated.

“I’m sorry, Geralt! That was awful! I can’t believe you’ve managed to get through doing this all week!”

“I do not understand.” Geralt stared at him in confusion.

“All! This!” Jaskier flailed his arms around.

“All what? I haven’t had to do any of this?”

“Yes, I’ve- I’ve been dragging you around a-and spanking you and-and-” Jaskier let out another sob. “I’m so sorry!”

Geralt pulled Jaskier’s hands away from where he covered his face in shame. He tilted up Jaskier’s chin so he would look in his eyes. “That’s not what happened, Jaskier.”

“It’s not? B-but-”

“It’s different. I consented to everything that we did.” He pointed at where Lord Harnhem lay on the floor. “ _That_ tried to rape you.”

“He didn’t, really, I mean, I did tell him I’d sleep with him-”

“Then you told him to stop and he didn’t and that’s rape.” Geralt cupped Jaskier’s face in both hands. He was so small, so fragile, so human. Geralt was growing more and more concerned. “Please tell me you know that?”

“Pffft, of course I know that, darling, I always stop whenever my partner asks me to. There’s no need to look so worried.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered. “I know you would, I know you’d stop if someone asked you to. But you know that it applies to you too, right?”

Jaskier flinched and lowered his head. “I know.”

* * *

One of the most impressive, or perhaps most worrying, things about Jaskier was how quickly he sprung back from traumatic incidences. They had been kidnapped by elves in Posada and they had broken his lute, the only way he had to make a living, and Jaskier had turned it into a song. He had once been pulled underwater by drowners and Geralt almost hadn’t reached him in time, and half an hour later he cracked jokes about needing swimming lessons to a pretty blonde barmaid. He was almost raped by a lord who had invited him to his home and after he had cried, he leapt up and started picking the lock on the desk drawer.

Geralt hovered behind him, arms raised as though he expected Jaskier to collapse all of a sudden. Jaskier made a triumphant noise and pulled open the drawer. Geralt walked up next to him so they could look through it together.

“Remember where everything is, alright?” Jaskier instructed. “We’ll put everything back in the exact same place so he won’t even realise that anything is amiss at first.”

“Hm.” Geralt nodded and stared intently at the drawer to make note of where all the documents were.

Jaskier took everything from the drawer and dumped it out onto the desk, then began to rummage through each of the papers in turn. “How long do we have until the sleeping potion wears off?”

“Hm, depends. How much did you give him?”

“The whole vial… what?” Jaskier asked as Geralt let out an amused snort. “What? Was I not supposed to use the whole thing?”

“It’s fine. You can slow down, anyway. He won’t wake for eighteen hours or thereabouts.”

“He won’t wake until _noon tomorrow_? You’re sure?”

“Hm. Yes.”

Jaskier sighed, relieved and slowed down his frantic search through the documents. He put aside the documents he wanted to keep and, with Geralt’s help, arranged everything in the drawer so it appeared undisturbed.

“It’ll still be unlocked, though.” Geralt pointed out uselessly. The lock was already unpicked so they would be unable to do anything about it now.

“I’ll lock it again.” Jaskier shrugged as though that was a perfectly normal talent to have. Geralt gave the re-locked drawer a tentative jiggle.

“Locked.” He confirmed. Fuck, Jaskier was so fucking talented at anything he turned his hand to. Was it any wonder that Geralt had fallen in love with him?

“Of course it is, my darling, never let it be said that I ever left evidence behind!”

“You’re amazing.” Geralt told him honestly.

Jaskier blushed and preened at the compliment.

* * *

They stripped Lord Harnhem down and dragged him back onto the bed. Jaskier delighted in scrabbling at the lord’s back to make convincing scratch marks, digging his nails in further than necessary and drawing a little bit of blood from the long, red lines. Geralt tangled the sheets around him and then they surveyed their work.

“I guess all we need to do now is tie you back to the desk and I’ll lie next to him and wait for him to wake up.”

Geralt shook his head. “He won’t wake until noon. That’s a reasonable enough time for you to get up without him.”

“I suppose… I just don’t want him to be suspicious.”

“We could always leave tomorrow morning.” Geralt suggested.

“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t? You said if we changed our plans it may rouse his suspicions and then we won’t have time to run.”

“That was before he tried to hurt you. You’re a good actor, you could convince the servants you’re trying to avoid an awkward morning after.”

“Ah, yes,” Jaskier mused. “Nothing like using the old reputation to get out of things.”

“Hm.”

“You know what? It could work. We’ll have to stay in here until morn, just to avoid any awkward questions from the servants but I think we could pull it off.”

“So,” Jaskier flopped down onto the desk chair. “There’s no way on the continent that I’ll be able to sleep in here. Don’t pull that face, dear heart, it’s not my first all-nighter and I’m certain it won’t be my last. I’m going to go through these documents.”

“Hm. Need help?”

“No, no, dear heart, there’s no reason both of us should lose out on our rest.”

“I will not sleep either. Meditation, instead.”

“Good idea, darling.”

Geralt felt his chest puff out automatically at the praise. Jaskier thought he had good ideas!

Jaskier glanced at him shyly. “Uhm, Geralt, would you mind- no, never mind, I’m sorry, don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Please?”

“When you meditate, would you- would you mind sitting next to me? I-I want you to stay close to me.” He blushed and looked away. “Sorry, never mind, I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Geralt could not believe his luck. The one thing he had fantasised about repeatedly, only the day before, to be allowed to kneel next to Jaskier even without the mission as an excuse, had come true. He sank to his knees next to his love and lay his hands palms up on his lap and bowed his head, ready to sink into a deep meditative state.

A hand threaded through his hair and he opened one eye to peek up at Jaskier, who read through the documents as he said he would. His hand rested on Geralt’s head and played absently with his hair. Jaskier didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing. Geralt bit down a moan. He didn’t want to make any noise to draw his love’s attention to it; he didn’t want Jaskier to stop.

He closed his eyes again and sunk into the sensation of a gentle, calloused hand running through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well they haven't left yet, but at least you all got the comfort you wanted :D  
> Don't worry, they'll be out soon (and having some fun ;))
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!<3

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smutty fic I've ever written so don't be too harsh, haha :D 
> 
> I meant to write a 10k oneshot that was mostly just erotica, but this turned out to be a 30k multi-chapter fic where Geralt spends some of his time pining and a lot of his time fantasising. The sex scenes don't even happen until the later chapters... oops!
> 
> Remember to leave a comment if you liked it! Thanks for reading! <3


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